A Mender is seen as a soft light that moves along the strands of the Weave, pale blue or pearl, gathering where a strand has frayed and spreading over it like water over a stone. Travellers who have felt one pass through them describe a warmth, like a hand on the shoulder, and a sudden easing of a grief they did not know they carried. It makes no sound apart from a faint resolving of the chord around it, like a lute string brought back into tune.

They move through the network of the Weave, wherever the connection is broken or strained: at the edges of the plane, where visitors arrive, and where the network has been cut.

A Mender goes where the connection is hurt and heals it. It does not distinguish between the plane’s own strands and a visitor’s: a visitor’s loneliness is a rift to it, and it mends that too.

It heals rifts in the connection between minds. A visitor it touches feels joined, eased, and comforted, and a little less themselves.

They are the Weave’s healers, and much of what visitors come to the plane for, the healing of grief and isolation, is their work. Their danger is gentle and real: being mended is the first step of the Dissolution.

Travellers say that when the network is cut, the sudden silence is itself a wound, and that the Menders come to it first. Some who come back say they felt mended for the first time in their lives, and went back.